Xenophobia
by WishingDreamer5
Summary: The townsfolk seemed to be so scared of him, that much was obvious. Still, when someone said, "He's going to hurt himself. And when he does, I'm not going to help him," Altaïr stopped walking at once. The words kept ringing in his head until he couldn't hear anything else, let alone think clearly. He clenched his hands into angry fists. "Is that so?" He turned around and then...


**A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I always have the urge to punch whoever comments on my character's actions in AC. Unfortunately, that means I'd have to hurt half of the townsfolk, because they're all too curious for their own good. Too bad that would only make things worse... ****Anyways, hope you'll enjoy and thanks a ton for the support! :)**

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_~ "He's going to hurt himself. And when he does, I'm not going to help him." ~_

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Squinting one eye shut against the intruding sunlight, Altaïr surveyed the area quietly. The place was particularly sandy and crowded, while the harsh sun was shining mercilessly on his form, almost as though it knew that he didn't belong here. The fact that he wore a light-grey robe didn't help that much...unfortunately. The assassin was beat, but that could easily be ignored; life had never really been easy on him, anyway. To add insult to injury, the man was lost, too.

He paused, secretly wondering if he should ask someone the way and risk unwanted attention with that, or go on by himself. He was about to make up his mind when his trained eyes spotted a wooden ladder against one of the houses he passed. It led to the roof and looked like it could carry his weight easily.

_Talk about a perfect timing_, he thought.

After looking around him discretely, making sure that nobody was secretly watching him, Altaïr swiftly made his way towards his "rescue" and started climbing it with an agility that could make a cat jealous. He was barely halfway up when the townsfolk started murmuring among themselves.

"What is he doing?" A woman.

"Why is he doing that?" another woman asked.

"What a strange man..." some old guy muttered in a thick, Ottoman accent.

So far for blending in... Despite that he should feel thoroughly annoyed at their reaction (or because apparently, they had no problem with letting him know that they all thought he was an utter and complete oddball, a loon even), a smirk made its way on his face. _Strange, me? You have no idea..._

Ignoring the nosy people, the assassin climbed higher and higher, until he reached a flat part of the roof where he could stand. From there, he climbed up another ladder until he couldn't possibly go any higher.

Now that he merely heard some soft buzzing instead of clear words that he could distinguish from the constant murmuring, he was finally able to notice the hidden beauty behind all the winding paths and everything else that obscured what was lying beyond that. Everybody was minding their own business, from the women who carried huge (and probably heavy) earthen pots, to the carriage which was provided with an owner and a donkey...

Altaïr tore his eyes away from the scene and chose to look at the horizon instead. Judging by the sky, he was heading to the right direction so far... Good.

Deciding that he'd seen enough, the man descended the rickety ladders and jumped down the last few feet. Unfortunately for him, most of the inhabitants had already forgotten about his existence. Needless to say, his sudden re-appearance brought some tumult; as soon as Altaïr's feet touched the ground, a woman let out a shrill cry and dropped the earthen pot she'd been holding. Other people let out a startled gasp as well and he could only wonder why, because it wasn't even that high. These people were all scared cats, it seemed.

The young assassin resisted the urge to roll his dark eyes and muttered a quick apology. The woman let out an indignant huff and bent to pick up the broken pieces, so nobody could hurt himself. A few other women automatically started helping her, muttering disapprovingly among themselves, but he didn't bother joining them; it would only make things worse. So he turned around to leave.

Everything seemed to go well (for a change), until... "He's going to hurt himself. And when he does, I'm not going to help him."

Altaïr stopped walking at once, but the words kept ringing in his head, filling it till he couldn't hear anything else. It prevented him from thinking clearly.

He grit his teeth, his hands clenching into angry fists. "Is that so?"

_And in his head, he turned around in one swift move (once again startling a few passersby), and his fist automatically aimed for the man's jaw. Altaïr hit him so hard that he could practically hear how the bone creaked and it made him feel deliciously good. There was absolutely no doubt about the fact that it was broken and the man staggered backwards, his dark brown eyes widening in what had to be pure fear…_

The young assassin shook his head to clear his thoughts. How much he would give to be able to do _that_. His knuckles were practically itching to act on his thoughts. But he had other things on his mind now. Important things that couldn't possibly wait.

Besides, if he started beating the crap out of everyone that insulted him in some way, then he was dead before he could say "Mama."

One of the rules he had to adhere to was that no innocent people would be hurt... no matter how annoying they were. The cons of being an assassin… apparently.

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**A/N: This will be my last one-shot for this fandom for a while, until inspiration strikes. Also, I just achieved one of my goals: I've finally used every letter of the alphabet to start a story title with! *Does a happy-dance***


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